


there's a drug in the thermostat

by gravitational



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Kinktober 2019, M/M, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 22:10:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitational/pseuds/gravitational
Summary: Eddie's never tried smoking weed before, but Richie's got an idea.





	there's a drug in the thermostat

**Author's Note:**

> 5\. Shotgunning - Richie / Eddie
> 
> "Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year" - Fall Out Boy

When Richie had invited him over after school that afternoon, Eddie had imagined something pretty simple - cuddling in his bed or on the couch, a movie or two, maybe he'd stay for dinner if Mrs. Tozier could sweet-talk his mother with enough success. You know, the usual. What he hadn't imagined was, well, this.

He's sitting crosslegged at the foot of Richie's bed, watching with a skeptical frown as his boyfriend of two years rolls himself a second blunt from the little plastic bag of weed he'd produced from inside his desk drawer. It's not that Eddie isn't aware of Richie's habits (he's pretty sure even Richie's parents have to have their suspicions, considering the fact that there's been times when the smell clings to him and the rest of his room for quite a while after Richie puts away his lighter). It's more that Eddie hadn't expected to be coaxed into joining in, something that was far from a feat on Richie's behalf, accomplished only after the older boy had already smoked his way through one.

"Are you sure about this?" Eddie asks cautiously, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt. Already he's regretting agreeing to try weed, and his brain hasn't even begun rattling off all the things his mother would do to him if she found out. "I mean, my asthma and everything, and, you know... all of that..."

Richie glances up at him, flashing him a wide, toothy grin as he grabs his lighter. "You'll be fine, Eds, don't worry," he says, and for once he isn't trying out one of his Voices. It's comforting enough that Eddie finds his next breath comes just a little easier, but the knot in his stomach shows no signs of unraveling quite yet. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but - "

"And you know I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, right?"

Eddie turns red then, nodding. His boyfriend brightens, chucking his lighter off to god knows where and sitting back against the headboard with the joint in one hand. "Alright, good," Richie says, and motions him closer. "C'mere, sit in my lap."

Startled, he pauses; his confusion must be evident on his face, because Richie repeats the gesture, his free hand outstretched. "Come on," he says again, and Eddie sighs, taking his boyfriend's hand and letting himself be pulled closer.

Richie guides him into his lap, waiting until Eddie is situated comfortably with his knees on either side of his thighs and his hands on his shoulders before he loops his free arm around Eddie's waist, leaning up to peck his cheek. "Comfy?" he asks, and Eddie can feel his smile against his heated skin. Ducking his head lower to hide against Richie's shoulder, he merely nods, staying there for a moment and letting his focus narrow to Richie's hand, rubbing slow, soothing circles onto his back. "Good," the older boy says after a beat; it takes Eddie a second to realize that the word sounded odd because Richie had breathed it out along with a drag of marijuana. He coughs reflexively, lifting his head.

"What are we doing?" he asks, wrinkling his nose as he frowns down at the joint in Richie's hand. He isn't a big fan of the smell on its own, although he's become sort of used to it when it's blended in with Richie's scent on his shirts or in his hair. Sometimes the hoodies his boyfriend lets him borrow have a faint aroma hanging off of them, so it's not as though he _hates_ it. It's just very, very far from his favorite thing.

His boyfriend shrugs, laughing softly at Eddie's reaction. "You're gonna try weed," he replies simply, and Eddie gives him a weary stare. "You're not gonna smoke it, though - pretty sure you'd have a coughing fit and die if I let you try that, and I kinda wanna keep you around a bit longer, y'know?"

Eddie isn't sure he follows. "... How am I gonna try it if I'm not smoking it? That doesn't make any sense, Richie, what - "

"Hey, shh," he breaks in, leaning up to kiss the tip of Eddie's nose and laughing again at the indignant huff he earns. "Shh. Simple. You're gonna kiss me."

That's strange enough for Eddie to stop completely, forgetting his annoyance with the stolen kisses and nonsensical words in favor of frowning at Richie, trying to figure out how exactly that'll help them out with this little endeavor. Is it too late for him to back out entirely? Maybe the weed has already gotten to Richie's head. "Kiss you?" he repeats, and frowns down at the blunt in the other boy's hand, held off to one side while he rubs the same methodical patterns onto his back.

He appreciates the touch, even if he's bewildered as hell.

"Kiss me," Richie confirms, and there's that shit-eating grin, the same as it's been since they were kids. Since Richie ditched glasses in favor of contacts sophomore junior year, it's been so much easier to take him seriously, something Eddie still isn't entirely used to. Richie really had grown into his looks. "I'm gonna take a hit, and then you're gonna kiss me. That way, you don't actually have to smoke it yourself. Might make it easier for you. Roger that?"

Eddie blinks once, twice, finally heaves a sigh. He still doesn't see how this is going to work, but he's seen firsthand how relaxed smoking makes Richie. They've hung out hundreds of times when Richie is stoned, and really, all it does is make him lazier, slower, more languid; Eddie would say he loses his filter, but then again, he doesn't ever really have one to begin with. Pushing aside his mother's voice in the back of his head, he decides, what the hell? At the best, he gets high, and at the worst, he spends some time kissing his high boyfriend. "Fine," he mutters.

The grin that rises on Richie's face makes his deliberation worth it. "Thattaboy," he laughs, and it's on the tip of his tongue to protest, but Eddie decides against it; Richie really is too cute when he's happy. "Okay, I'm gonna take a hit, and you're just gonna kiss me, alright? Easy. All you gotta do. Think you can manage?"

"Of course I can, asshole," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "Just hurry up, alright?"

His boyfriend fucking giggles, but he seems happy enough to obey, lifting the blunt to his lips and taking a deep, long drag. Eddie can't help but notice the way his eyes flutter shut on the inhale, or the wink he gives him when he opens them again a moment later, dropping his hand to his side once again and cocking a brow. Quicker on the uptake than Richie at all times, Eddie braces himself for - for what, exactly? - and leans in, tentatively pressing his lips to Richie's.

Immediately, he's hit with the same taste he's grown accustomed to already, what with the amount of time they've spent making out down in the barrens, Richie halfway to cloud nine and Eddie still on the ground. For a moment, he wonders, is this all they're doing - and then Richie presses a little more firmly on his back, deepens the kiss until Eddie gets the hint and parts his lips... and then - oh.

Oh.

Eddie's first instinct is to jerk away, to pull back from the fucking smoke Richie's trying to breathe into his mouth, but Richie holds him more firmly in place, makes a low, urgent sound against him, and, well, he's never been good at resisting. He doesn't exactly breathe in, not really, but he doesn't pull away, remaining rigid in the kiss as the smoke wafts onto his tongue. Only when Richie breaks the kiss does he sit back, grimacing as he's forced to inhale. His next breath comes as a weak cough, more to clear his throat than anything, and his face scrunches up as he tries to process what the hell sort of taste is in his mouth.

"Well?" Richie asks, and only then does he realize he's being watched. Eddie hesitates, glances to his boyfriend's expectant face, then away. "Worth another shot?"

He's quiet for a beat, finally nodding; he doesn't have to be looking to see the slow grin rise on Richie's face. "Good," Richie whispers, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw, and fuck, okay, that's a little different. Eddie flushes red, remaining motionless atop his boyfriend's lap as he takes another hit and leans back in.

This time, he coaxes himself to meet Richie halfway, his lips already parted, more because he can tell it makes the other boy happy than anything else. Sure enough, Richie gives a low, contented hum against him, deepening the kiss and breathing the smoke down his throat as his hand on Eddie's back slides lower, settling at the base of his spine to keep him close. Eddie shifts above him, instinctively reacting to the change, but Richie's quick enough to draw away, laughing softly as he does.

"What?" Eddie mumbles, his breathing a little rougher now. He still can't quite decide if he likes this - obviously he enjoys the kissing part, but is there really any benefit? Can you even get high off of secondhand smoke? Did Richie think this through? Did Richie _try_ this before? Did - 

A gentle squeeze to his hip startles Eddie from the tizzy he would have no doubt worked himself into; blinking, he looks down to where Richie's hands are both on his waist, the blunt carefully held away from the fabric of his sweatshirt. "Still with me, baby?" Richie asks, and his voice is... different. Eddie looks back at him, notices the glaze over his eyes. _They weren't that dark bef - oh._ Flushing red as realization hits, Eddie looks down, then away, merely nodding in response. "Hey, you alright? We can stop if you want, Eds, I can just kiss you like normal - "

"No," he breaks in, startling himself even as he shakes his head. Richie cocks a brow, waiting. "No, it's... it's okay. Just kinda weird, you know?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, pushing up the hem of Eddie's sweatshirt enough to brush his thumb across the skin there, just above where his shorts ride low on his hips. "You like it? Or do you just like kissing me?" He says this with a wink, the tip of his tongue poking out through his crooked grin, and Eddie turns redder than before as he nods. "Aww, baby... so fucking cute..."

Richie laughs to himself as he takes another drag, leaning up to meet him in yet another kiss; this time, determined to forget his own embarrassment, Eddie is the first to part his lips, his hands gripping the front of Richie's shirt when the older boy does the same. The wisps of smoke feel different now, less strange, as they waft into his lungs... but he doesn't devote much time to evaluating it, nor the way he feels just a little less steady than before. No, he's too busy kissing Richie, far too occupied with the feeling of his boyfriend's tongue sliding against his own.

He doesn't realize Richie's hands are moving again until there's a sudden chill on his side; Eddie jerks and whines, going nearly boneless in the other boy's lap as Richie fits his hand around the curve of his hipbone beneath his shirt. As if in response to the tiny jolt of Eddie's hips, Richie presses closer, arches from the headboard to coax their kiss into something deeper, rougher, filthier. It takes only a moment for Eddie to loop his arms around the other's neck, to rise up onto his knees above Richie's lap as he adjusts them both, pulls Eddie back down on his hips and chokes out a rough little groan.

"Fuck, Eds, c'mon," Richie breathes, his voice muffled into their kiss, and breaks away with what has to be the same amount of difficulty Eddie has in letting him do so. "One more hit, okay, baby? One more, and then we can - we can do whatever you want." He sounds halfway gone already, the words deep and rough and raw, and yeah, there's no way the glassy film over his eyes is just thanks to the weed.

Distantly, Eddie's proud.

He nods, clears his throat, watches with impatient eyes as Richie fumbles with the blunt, getting it to his lips - _red and kinda swollen, fuck_ \- to take another long drag and immediately crushing it on the nightstand, barely at arm's reach. He tosses it aside, and before Eddie can complain about messing up the floor, Richie's lips are back on his own, and he gives up on coherent thought entirely.

Now that he has both hands free, Richie's gravitate toward Eddie's hips, holding him firmly by the waist and keeping him close as he parts his lips, biting gently at his lower lip. The little sting of teeth is enough to make Eddie whimper, melting into him entirely on instinct and going limp against his chest. He's weak to Richie at the best of times and completely powerless now, and he can't exactly pinpoint why - or why everything feels that much better, his every movement more fluid and slow. Really, he doesn't much care to know. He's got much more important things to care about right now, like the way Richie is coaxing his hips into a slow grind, like the way Richie's hands are moving again, one traveling up beneath his shirt and the other sliding down, down to his ass, grabbing hold and squeezing, and fuck - 

Eddie breaks the kiss with a little gasp, dropping his head to rest it on Richie's shoulder as he rocks down onto the bulge he can feel growing between his boyfriend's thighs; he's half-hard himself, by now, aching for contact. "Rich - " he manages, but chokes himself off, shuddering as Richie turns his head to kiss first his jaw, then his throat. The first bite to the tender skin is rougher than normal; Eddie whines, craning his head far enough to the side that Richie has room to leave his mark.

"I've got you, baby," Richie croons, and fuck, his voice... Eddie nearly mewls when his boyfriend's grip on his ass tightens, pushing him down harder onto the hard line of his cock, when he hears Richie's breath hitch on a groan. "God, baby, your fuckin' ass... fucking love it, I ever tell you that?"

He's pretty sure he's never blushed this hard in his life, but what the hell is he supposed to do? All he _can_ do is rock down onto Richie's cock, the movement of his hips entirely instinctive now that he's settled into a rhythm, and god, he wants - he wants more, wants... "Y - yeah," he mumbles, huffing out a laugh and closing his eyes. "Yeah, you - you have... fuck, c'mon, Rich, let me - I wanna - "

He makes the mistake of stalling there, of cutting himself off with a moan, and Richie's lightning fast to take advantage. "C'mon, baby boy, tell me," he all but purrs, right against his ear, and Eddie fucking shudders, whines out against the side of his throat, bucks under the pressure when Richie's fingertips slide between his cheeks, ignoring the fabric in favor of pressing against his hole. "Wha'cha need, sweetheart? Gotta talk to me, Eds, c'mon..."

Eddie chokes back a groan, his rhythm faltering as he pushes back into the older boy's hand; he's digging his nails into Richie's back, only halfway aware, trying to keep himself steady. "N - need you," he pleads, hating himself for how wrecked he already sounds, except the hate is a dull and distant kind, masked under lust and the sort of delirium he only knows from dreams. "Need you t - to fuck me, can you - please?"

Richie fucking moans against his ear, low and filthy, and then he's letting go, pushing Eddie back enough that he can grab the sweatshirt by the hem and pull it off, leaving him halfway naked and fucking trembling. "Sit up a bit, baby, get those shorts off," he mumbles, his hands on Eddie's waist guiding him up higher onto his knees. It takes some fucking maneuvering and a little bit of pure luck, but Eddie gets his shorts and briefs off without any major issue, and by then, Richie's grabbed the lube from the nightstand and gotten his fingers wet, wet enough that they're fucking cold as hell when they brush Eddie's side as he settles back into place. "Shit, sorry, okay, just, c'mon..."

"Fuckin' cold," Eddie mutters, just so Richie's aware, but he doesn't protest the command; he's perfectly happy to kneel up over Richie's lap, to hide against his shoulder and hang onto his neck once again. "'s cold as shit, Richie, fucking hurry up, I n - _god - "_

He'd made the mistake of being distracted around Richie, something he instantly regrets when his boyfriend pushes two fingers inside with no warning whatsoever. Eddie bucks onto his hand with a strangled cry, grateful for a thousand different reasons that Richie's parents aren't home - a thousand and one, goddammit, Richie's fucking _hands_ have always been able to take him apart like nothing else, sometimes he doesn't even make it onto Richie's cock before he's come, and something tells him this'll be one of those days. "F - fuck you..."

Richie breathes out a laugh, kissing a point just below his jaw as he wraps his other arm around Eddie's waist, holding him close so he can crook his fingers just so inside him, _just_ right against his spot, and god, Eddie's already close to sobbing, his hips convulsing under the rush of white hot pleasure that rockets up his spine just from that little nudge. "I'm working on it, baby," he teases, and Eddie would bite him if he wasn't busy biting into his own damn arm, trying to keep himself quiet. "Workin' on it, sweetheart, just keep movin' those pretty little hips of yours, alright? You're alright..."

But Eddie can only whine, his back arching as he settles into a cautious rhythm, rolling down onto Richie's hand as his boyfriend works him open. He can't quite tell why it feels so much different now, so much better - why reality is reaching him through a faint haze - but god, he fucking loves it, loves feeling Richie's fingers so fucking deep inside him, loves knowing he'll be on his cock soon enough... 

Yeah, maybe this wasn't a bad idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look, more unofficial Kinktober... hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments / criticism welcome.
> 
> <3


End file.
